


there ain't a language for the things i feel

by serenitysea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Inhumans - Freeform, happyish ending, these feels are nothing we were ever trained for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>aka</b>: <i>the one where skye absorbs the abilities of the inhumans and is the only survivor and no one can reach her except ward.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	there ain't a language for the things i feel

**Author's Note:**

> \+ for jessie, who wanted a mini fic with the promts: _things you said when you were drunk & after you kissed me_

She comes and goes in waves.

No one really knows what to make of her, no one knows how to approach her or behave around her. Everyone sort of walks around as if on eggshells. 

And it would be one thing if it were because of her abilities. 

…It’s not that. 

It’s because of the people who died. 

*

The thing is. 

The thing is –

Skye has always been the kind of _act first, think later_ type of person. It’s suited her most of her life. Training and SHIELD had put more structure into her actions and reactions – but there’s something undeniably _raw_ about the human response to threat – something that not even an entire community of Inhumans can stamp out or fight. 

Something they never stood a chance against. 

*

She is free to come and go as she pleases. 

Most of the time, she keeps to herself and doesn’t bother with even the slightest conversation. One of the ~~consequences~~ ~~blesses~~ ~~curses~~ byproducts of the firefight was her radically expanded skillset. When she doesn’t want to be somewhere, she just _disappears_. ( ~~Some would say Gordon had it coming.~~ )

So, yes. She is free to come and go as she pleases. 

(But this is mostly because they cannot hope to contain her.)

*

There is a war – because there is always some kind of war to be fought. 

And it’s over her – because there is almost always a woman involved. 

So in this regard, it’s just like any other war. 

There is a winning side. There is a losing side. 

(Like any other war.)

And then? Then there’s _her_ side. 

(Which is a little bit of both.)

*

Most of the time she’s out. 

It’s easy for her to get around – harder for them to keep track of her. She never stays in one place long enough for anyone to get a read on her. She’s always careful to vary her location, where she goes, which hemisphere she spends her time in. 

Which is why it is so damn _frustrating_ when she wakes up to see Ward reading a book quietly on the couch across from her. 

“It’s about time.” He folds the page corner, setting the book aside and giving her his full attention. “Thought you were going to sleep all night.” 

She wants to scream. 

She wants to cry. 

She wants to _rage_ against anything. _Everything_. 

He reaches easily for her (clearly lacking all sense as he isn’t even afraid of her) and puts a hand on her knee. His eyes are a steady calm. She can hear the way his heart beats solidly in his chest. 

(If she disappears now, there’s a good chance he’s going with her, wherever she ends up.)

“If you want to go –” 

She disappears.

*

It never should have happened the way that it did. 

She later found out (from redacted debriefings and whispers secreted away in darkened hallways) that one person had objected – quite strenuously, in fact – to striking after dark, with the element of surprise. Said that it would be a mistake to go without attempting to trade, or reason with the Elders. That anything less would be viewed as a threat. 

The person in question was overruled by _both sides_ of SHIELD. (Ironic that they’d finally found something to agree on.)

And when the dust settles and there are only ashes scattered on the winds, Grant Ward finds he doesn’t have it in him to even say _i told you so_. 

*

They reappear somewhere quiet and dark. It is heavily wooded and the night sky shines bright with stars without any city lights to interfere. There is a cabin to the left and a battered jeep at their side. 

Skye doesn’t even look at him as she walks to the door. 

She stops just before she rounds the corner and looks back at him. “You coming?”

*

They try to make her go to a SHIELD mandated counselor. Andrew comes back but she won’t speak to him. When they recommend other forms of counseling, of _processing_ – May offers training, Jemma tries to work through the science of what new abilities she’s got under her belt now, Fitz keeps making these incredibly complex gadgets that are probably the envy of the entire intelligence community (though he hoards them fiercely) – she flicks lazy, disinterested eyes and waves a hand loosely. 

If there is a door, it closes. A barrier – it turns opaque. A cage? 

Well. 

There really isn’t any kind of prison Skye goes into unwillingly. 

This is no exception. 

*

Ward hasn’t made it where he is in life because he lacks intelligence. 

He’s a survivor. He makes tough decisions because they’re the only kind to make. It’s all he’s never known. 

So when he sees Skye with the bottle and the glasses and the barely masked  look of devastation on her face, he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even falter in his steps. 

He closes the door. He pulls up the chair across from her. 

He pours them both a drink. 

*

Despite having led the forces against the Inhumans (or at least, having been the one providing the intel on where to find them), Ward is notoriously absent from the base when they stagger home. She knows Coulson has reinstated his access as an Agent on a probationary level, knows that Kara has agreed to sign on as a consultant and that the two of them spend days training and cooped up in a lesser-used wing of the Playground doing god knows what all day. 

She isn’t bothered by it. 

(One of the fallen Inhumans had the ability to redirect seismic activity. She’d almost been the one to kill her.)

(Skye acts first and thinks later.)

(Skye _survives_.)

*

“You shouldn’t be here,” Skye mumbles around her third or fourth glass. 

Ward has been pouring generous portions and she hasn’t been eating much lately. He can tell by the way her words bleed into each other that she’s well on her way to being really, stupidly drunk. 

“I guess you could say I’m along for the ride,” a hint of a smile appears on her face and melts away before he can take the thought further. 

He doesn’t pour her another drink. He doesn’t _not_ pour her another drink, either. 

“Why _are_ you here?”

Ward knocks back his drink. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

*

She has nightmares. She has daymares. 

She has visions, now. 

She has all _sorts_ of terrifying gifts. 

It isn’t until after she nearly levels the hanger bay (and all three quinjets) that she decides this isn’t working. 

Conveniently this is when she discovers that among the abilities she’s absorbed, Gordon’s are at the top of the list. 

(She tunes out the noise and thinks of the boy with electrical currents and a kind smile and patient words. How it felt to be touched by someone who wasn’t afraid of her.)

The next she opens her eyes, she’s in the arctic somewhere. 

The tears freeze on her cheeks like warpaint. 

*

They make it through another few glasses before the table starts to shake. 

Skye lays a rock-steady hand on its surface, closing her eyes as she focuses on putting the energy to rest. It doesn’t work so well. If anything, the tremors increase to an alarming degree. 

Just when she’s about ready to scream in frustration, Ward puts his hand over hers. He calmly threads their fingers together, giving her something to anchor to. 

The tremors stop. 

She opens her eyes and doesn’t even care that he sees her crying. 

“Get out while you can,” she suggests weakly. 

“Skye,” he lifts his free hand to her cheek, achingly gentle as he caresses the faint scar left behind. 

(They match.)

“There’s nowhere else for me to go.” 

(It would almost be romantic if it weren’t so damn true.)

*

She gets sloppy. 

No. That isn’t true. 

She doesn’t get sloppy as much as she gets _tired_ of having _that much_ control all the time, every day, without a break. Whatever she thought she was handling before is _nothing_ compared to what she has fighting to escape the surface now. It takes all of her considerable control and everything she’s learned from May and ~~Jiaying~~ her mother to keep the worst of the monster inside at bay. 

It’s just. 

It’s just one day she gets tired. She forgets, for about half a second, the great responsibility crushing her into the ground on a daily basis. 

It’s just poor circumstances that on this day, the other SHIELD comes to meet with Coulson. 

(She didn’t mean to hurt them. )

*

The alcohol has her loose-limbed and slouching inelegantly in her chair. Ward tightens his grip enough to pull her to her feet, easily slinging an arm around her waist when she stumbles. 

(She hasn’t stumbled in so long – or is it that she _has_ , and there was never anyone to catch her?)

“You need to sleep,” he advises in a low voice, unable to keep the faint hint of concern out of his tone. 

“Mmmm. But I won’t,” she laughs humorlessly. “I never do. Not anymore.”

It is a testimony to Ward’s training that he doesn’t stumble at her admission (she hasn’t told anyone anything for _months_ ), only steers them into the closest bedroom and helps her with her shoes and jacket before lifting the covers so that she can climb into bed. 

Skye doesn’t put any force behind the childlike tug on his wrist, but he goes willingly, and sits on the edge of the mattress while she stares at the ceiling and struggles to keep her eyes open. “You said I’d understand someday.”

His eyes slam shut as unwanted memories assault him. 

(She has the ability of perfect recall now. She has the ability to project emotion.)

He lets it wash over him until it clears away on the other side, smooth and calm like the ocean after the storm. 

“Welcome,” Skye turns her head just far enough to brush a kiss to his knuckles, “to someday.” 

Ward doesn’t bother with formalities when he gets into bed next to her. He lets her curl their fingers together and paces his breathing to match hers until she has reached the easy cadence of slumber. 

When he knows she cannot hear him: “I never wanted this for you.”

*

And when her dreams wake them both from sleep and she’s lashing out at the world, he pulls her close and buffets her from the storm. 

(He wakes up with bruises and the unexplained scratch but it is worth it.)

(Ward has always healed quick.)

*

He heals even faster these days. 

*

When he knows she is asleep, he kisses her forehead. “You’re _safe_.” Brushes her temple with his lips and smiles when she unconsciously curls toward him. “You’ll always be safe.”

**Author's Note:**

> \+ [tumblr](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com).  
> \+ title is from lord huron's _love like ghosts_


End file.
